Proserpina

Lucien was away for more than three and a half months.

I missed him, the nights were long without his rough hands sliding over me, squeezing, probing, and awakening a need in me that I had not known ever existed before he stormed into my life. I lay, wrapped in the sheets, staring out as the night faded, giving way to grey dawn before dozing off fitfully. It was only the yoga regime I followed which kept me fit.

And sane.

I slept in the afternoons, along with my twins, swam with them, played with them and avoided being anywhere near the part of the house where his men...